Tie on your trailer, Unholy grailer, You highway sailor! Winter was south, But summer's north, o hand-to-mouth, o back-and-forth! Tie on your trailer, Grailer! You have been roofed and floored., You've slept and snored In houses drained and cellared; But where a feller'd chance On localized romance Once in his sixty years, You've got a house that steers. And where romanCe is founJ, You're bound, Eh, hill-and-daler, In your new two-wheel trailer? And I know too V\That's true: There's millions on your side; The Nation's gone to ride, And you're the Nation, grailer- Eh, thumber (once) and hailer? Your life unplanned On other people's land, Your brake-lined ark Well grounded in the park. . . Tie on your trailer. Is this the classic gadget of our lives In single hives? The final fad? The nomad mad, Who roved from tree to tree, But now from A. & P. secure in a wind; their hair was skew- ered with quantities of hairpins, which kept falling out. No matter how thor- oughly ladies were buttoned up, they were always coming apart. 'they were well protected, however,. by their es- corts, swelling with whiskers and grand- eur. Men knew the world. Women didn't. Women were not fitted to deal with the world. A wife's fortune, if she had one, was usually controlled by her husband. And men's manner in supply- ing women with money was supposed to be tender but firm. This attitude was so general, and so few of Mother's friends were exempt from it, that in spite of her self-reliant nature she accepted the situation as inevitable. The idea of her ever hecoming independent in money 23 TREA TISE ON TRAILERS To A. & P? Cribb'd, cabin'd? Man, This isn't just a van- It's life and living scaled As when the paleface paled Where Indian tepee W as struck in grassy lea; It's what the pioneer I)reamed in his westward year; It's with the cloudy ship rrhe clippers strove to clip; It's bread and wine and bough In several models now; It's yearning sold de luxe- So hitch it on with hooks. 'Tie on your trailer, rr ra vailer, You tarvia sailor! In creature comfort, roll To far soconic goal- Cleave to the numbered route From Barnegat to Butte; Follow the oily seam As fliers hug the beam; Ride the last miles away In range of R.C.A.; Play on your own piano From Palm Beach to Wianno, Pounding a salty keyboard Along the Atlantic seaboard. Tie on your tuneful trailer, You city-sick, You ailer. Tie on the antidote To mortgage, rent, and vote; Begin the meteor flight F rom fixity and blight. . . matters, even in a small way, and hav- ing a life of her own, seemed a dream. Nevertheless, Father felt women should be businesslike, and one of the great objections, he said, to giving Mother an allowance was that she would give it all to those parsons. He said the minute he died, she'd give all of his money to them, too. Or she'd lend it to one of those incompetent friends of hers. He had pI en ty of reason to think this, for once in a while the Reverend Dr. Garden, the rector of our church, would drop in to see Mother. He usual- ly left a loving message of some kind for Father-at any rate, Father al- ways heard that he'd been there, and he didn't like it. If he himself was at home at the time, it was all right, because in Tie on your trailer, Graller, You smart availer! I'd say this way: That slow Silurian bid Of turtles for a lid, The shells of silly snails Pursuing sticky trails, Have chalked the way for l11an. Where he began He is-but with a tank Of ethyl yet to thank. Who lay with ox and ass Lies by his drum of gas, Or circling his bazaars, N ow reaches close to Mars... Godspeed, Godsped, Until you're dead. Tie on your trailer, Unholy grailer, You hungry highway sailor. Winter was south, But summer's north, o hand-to-mouth, o back-and-forth! Tie on your trailer, Grailer, Ozone inhaler- And leave not one bewaller! -DAVID MCCORD , ', , that case the Rector got nothing more than a cup of tea from his visit and departed as poor as when he came. But when any clergyman succeeded in see- ing Mother alone, he always got some- thing out of her, and, not only that, it was invariably something of Father's. Mother explained again and again that Dr. Garden had to visit all his parishioners, and that he didn't ask them for anything, at least not very often; he merely talked about the needs of the parish and the opportunities. Howev- er , Father remained down on all the clergy. He also remained down on all charities except the Charity Organiza- tion Society and its woodyard. Mother's generous nature was another trouble, for when appeals came to help a hos- pital or a fresh-air fund or a home for